


At War and At Peace

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angry Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Clint Barton, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Brainwashed Bucky, Clint is really the smartest one out of them all, Clint pulling everyone's heads out of their asses, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Families of Choice, Family, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Guilt, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multi, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Psychological Trauma, Rehabilitation, Rhodey's always gonna be there for Tony, Romance, Slight Natasha/Rhodey, Surgery, Team as Family, Threesome - M/M/M, Tony and his boys, Tony is a cinammon roll and can forgive anything, Torture, Worried Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 17:36:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17492243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: Steve trusted Bucky to know his own limits. Tony trusted his own instincts because Steve trusted Bucky.It was too soon.





	At War and At Peace

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after Civil War and disregards Bucky being taken in by Wakanda to heal, dealing with the effects of that. Spoilers but necessary warnings: Bucky is _not_ in his right mind after Civil War and kidnaps Steve and Tony and tortures Tony, still believing him to be the enemy and wanting to finish what he started for Hydra, but this time wanting to protect Steve. 
> 
> This fic has nothing to do with Bucky bashing, with the endgame being Tony/Steve/Bucky, but if the above situation is a trigger for you then please don’t read. Personally, I don’t think the torture is graphic but still, be forewarned that I’m rating it Mature just because it’s there. And I will also warn for angst, yes, ALL the angst and guilt. 
> 
> _A/N 2:_ I originally wrote this as a simple Tony/Steve piece to be gifted in Fandom Stocking; however, it grew way out of control and I added Bucky and then it got way too triggery and I figured, I’d rather upload a random fic that nobody likes than a gift fic that the giftee doesn’t like. So here it is, long and angsty and maybe not so terrible after all. 
> 
> **Warnings:** Kidnapping, Torture, Major Injuries, Blood and Gore, Major Angst and Guilt, Depression, Brainwashed Bucky Barnes, Psychological Trauma, Eventual Polyamory/Threesome

 

Today had been long and hard and just plain  _exhausting_ , Steve mused as he ran a sweaty and tired hand over his face and down the back of his neck, trying not to dwell on the uncomfortable twinges there. He was actually really looking forward to getting back to Tony’s and his flat, Bucky no doubt waiting for him there to give him one of his world-class massages; Steve feared he needed one from head to toe after this latest mission. 

He hoped Tony was back too, so he didn’t have to obsess over where he was all night and wait for him to resurface from whatever report he was working on. They had split up a couple hours ago, Tony needing to go do damage control, which he was better at than he liked to think, and Steve had waited for him for a while before bowing out and admitting he needed to head home. He knew Tony wouldn’t mind; sometimes the post-mission mess would go on for days, depending on the unavoidable destruction of property and casualties and  _especially_ dependent upon the amount of tech that needed fixing. 

All of it mind-boggled Steve, but Tony was in his element despite the toll it took on his sleep and health, and Steve was happier than anything to watch his boyfriend -  _wow,_ was he getting used to saying that - work at what he did best and make him come to terms with just how dependent Fury and the rest of the team were on him. 

He pulled out his phone and dialed Tony, knowing he would answer if he was home and no longer able to wait an additional twenty minutes.

“Stark here. Leave a message. Don’t wait up.”

Steve rolled his eyes and ended the call. At least this way, he’d be able to spend some time with Bucky before Tony got home. Bucky had bowed out of this mission, claiming he was feeling off, and they had had enough people anyway. Still, Steve liked it when he got to work with Tony  _and_ Bucky. Tony was always a given but his best friend was more reluctant to take on assignments, even if it got him quality time with Steve. He knew the time Bucky was spending with Tony helped, both by getting much-needed upgrades for his arm from the genius and also by just talking and getting to know each other better. 

Still, Bucky was a lot more solitary than Steve remembered him, and he usually begged off the assignments just to hang around his and Tony’s place, fiddling around with things in Tony’s workshop since Tony had given him  _almost_ free reign, or even doing things as mundane as chores, claiming they distracted and calmed him. 

Steve was fine with it and so was Tony, amazingly. Both of them just wanted Bucky to feel included, and Tony always did his fair share of bowing out so Steve and Bucky could have some time together.

Maybe that’s what Tony was doing now.

He was almost to their apartment, now really hoping that Bucky was there. Bucky still had his own place, but more and more he had been spending less time there when he wasn’t spending the occasional night in the treatment facility. Steve had yet to suggest to Tony whether they should ask him to move in officially, but he figured that was for Tony to bring up more so than him.

Steve rode up in the elevator exhausted but happy. It had been a rough assignment but they’d all gotten through it in one piece. And it was days like these that made Steve appreciate his boyfriend and best friend - both the greatest in the world in their respective categories - all the more.

Not to mention, last night had been  _fantastic._

He and Tony were reaching a new point in their relationship. Tony was opening up a lot more and Steve was starting to fall into a domestic routine that he wouldn’t trade anything for. Bucky being around helped put him even more at ease and there was very little to no tension between any of them.

Old wounds really could heal, no matter how deep.

Silence greeted him when he entered the apartment. Normally FRIDAY would greet him or there would be some music playing in the background but rarely ever silence. It was jarring for a moment until Steve realized that FRIDAY couldn’t be everywhere at once. Maybe she was mid-conversation with Bucky or just hadn’t noticed Steve had entered.

Steve shrugged it off and stepped into the kitchen. It took him getting some ingredients for a healthy shake out of the fridge before he realized that it was too quiet. He shut the refrigerator door and stood still for a moment, straining his hearing to its maximum. Maybe Bucky really had gone to his apartment for the night; then again, he  _knew_ Steve was coming back tonight, since Steve had texted him earlier. 

He dialed Bucky anyway, though he needn’t have bothered given the phone not three feet away was trilling loudly.

It was Bucky’s without a doubt: black and beat-up, no ring-tone just like his own.

“Buck!”

_He must be down in the workshop._

Steve ventured down the hallway and downstairs. The door was unlocked, another instance where FRIDAY should have greeted him and allowed him entry, but Steve was so used to seeing Bucky down here tinkering with Tony’s things that he convinced himself in a split second that nothing was amiss.

He barely made it through the door before something hard and unyielding drove his head into the floor.

Steve might have blacked out for a second, must have, because the next moment Bucky was leaning over him not with concern but with satisfaction. That wasn’t the last thing he saw though before blinding pain overtook him, no, it was Tony’s blood-soaked face, eyes boring into his own without blinking, devoid of something Steve was in too much pain and disorientation to name.

* * *

 

When Steve came to, Tony was watching him. A thick line of blood was trailing down from his lower lip and his eyes were wide and panicked. He looked as if terror had leeched out every other part of him.

Without even trying to think about what was going on, Steve immediately made a move to go over to him. A sharp pain radiating from his wrists to his upper arms convinced him that he was stuck. What felt like zip-ties wound around his wrists, secured to some bar that wouldn’t budge half an inch.

“Don’t even try it, Steve,” a voice rang out in the dark, a darkness that was only beginning to penetrate into Steve’s sense of calm.

“Bucky!” He exclaimed, relaxing back against whatever metal bar was at his back, searing his hands like ice. “Quick, get me out of these restraints before whoever it is comes back. We need to help Tony.” He was so ecstatic to know that Bucky was here that he hadn’t even heard the words, but as he glanced over at Tony something dark and terrible awakened in him.

“Buck? Hey, Buck, where are you?”

Bucky continued as if Steve hadn’t said a word. “I bet you can guess what that bar’s made out of. Same as your shield. I can’t take any chances.”

_Any chances?_ Steve’s mind was in a whirlwind, causing him to lose thought of Tony.  _What is he talking abo…_

And then he remembered: Bucky’s face looming over his as he fought in confusion against the darkness closing in on him from all sides, raging against the weakness of his body. Tony’s face before that, blood running into his eyes from a gash in his hairline, like dark red paint splattered onto a pale canvas.

Bucky above him, seeming off but Steve thinking nothing of it until Tony was bleeding on the ground and Steve was no doubt in the same position. He hadn’t even realized it was Bucky who had done the damage until now.

_But Hydra,_ Steve insisted in his head,  _Hydra’s supposed to be gone. Bucky was better, he was, he really was._

Steve felt a wave of bile rise in his throat, but he fought it back down when Bucky took Tony’s bloodied face in his hands roughly, hand clenching around his short hair and pulling his head up until his throat was exposed. The blade was there before Steve could even pull in a decent breath.

“Bucky, I don’t know what you’re doing but please… stop,” he almost choked on the last word, catching a faint trickle of blood in the darkness oozing from the knife held at Tony’s throat. “It’s not you, this isn’t  _you.”_

Bucky cocked his head and shot him an angry glance. “This  _is_ me, Stevie. I’m saving you. Can’t you see that?”

Steve didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know whether he could talk Bucky down from this and he didn’t know if he could ever break free from where he was currently kneeling, to get out of the zip-ties threatening to cut off his blood circulation, but he knew there was no way to break that bar.

But Tony was laying not three feet from him, terrified at what was happening, one-hundred percent the victim of Bucky’s wrath.

And Bucky was  _relishing_ it in a way that made Steve’s stomach do somersaults in his tightened chest. “I’m going to be the one to finally rid the world of Tony Stark. He should have been in that car that night, he was  _supposed_ to be.”

Steve shook his head and tried to shift again. The pain nearly robbed him of all thought but that didn’t make him stop, it only made him more pissed off at Hydra and determined. “Bucky, you’re not with Hydra anymore, okay? I brought you back,  _I_ saved  _you.”_

Bucky laughed, cold and cruel but still with that hint of the old Bucky that Steve had always clung to. “You don’t  _get it_ . After all these years of Tony goddamn Stark making the world his bitch, making  _you_ his bitch, don’t you want to be rid of that? You’re right, Steve, you  _did_ save me. And now it’s my turn to save you.”

“It’s okay, Steve,” Tony rasped, looking at Steve with such horrifying resignation that Steve instantly wanted to comfort him and tell him he was wrong and beg him to see that he would get him out of this, that he would make Bucky better again and right this wrong just like all the wrongs before.

But he couldn’t get one word out of his mouth right when Tony needed him the most.

He lunged forward when Bucky tore a hole in Tony’s side, nearly blacked out at the pain but still heard Tony’s barely suppressed cry of pain as Bucky drew the knife back out, glistening with Tony’s blood.

_No no no no no no no no no…_

His hands clenched as much as they were able, rivulets of blood running down his wrists and pooling in the back of his jeans, the dampness there nowhere reaching the tears soaking Steve’s eyes and face, obscuring his vision until all he could see was  _red_ . 

Tony couldn’t take much more of this; it was clear that Bucky had already started working on him before Steve had gained consciousness. Steve couldn’t see the damage, but when he squinted he could see glistening liquid no matter what part of Tony he bore his eyes into. He clenched his teeth and screamed out in frustration as Bucky glanced over at a helpless Tony, slowly bleeding out. “Bucky, I swear to god if you don’t stop this…”

“ _Enough_ , Steve. You see how much he’s twisted you around his little finger? I have to do this. I have to do this for the  _both_ of us.”

Steve had the unnerving thought that maybe this really was Bucky and that maybe he had practically moved in with Tony and Steve just to get to this moment, lied his way through every conversation and dinner and movie marathon.

And then Steve realized that he was hopelessly lost if he believed that.

Bucky wouldn’t do this. The real Bucky wouldn’t  _hurt_ Tony. 

_Would he?_

Taking in the look in Bucky’s eyes as he turned to face Steve was all the answer he needed. There was only the deepest rage and coldest malice in those eyes, nothing familiar. That was when Steve started fighting harder. “I know you’re in there, Buck. Just… just please keep fighting. Don’t let Hydra take hold of you like this again. I know you don’t want to hurt Tony and I know you don’t want to hurt me.”

Bucky’s hand was clenched around his throat next, blade pressed to his skin in warning. “Shut  _up_ , Steve.”

“Bucky, please. I  _love_ Tony.”

“And that’s the problem,” Bucky shot back, and Steve would have begged for the knife at his own throat again instead of what came next. He screamed as it sliced a thin line across Tony’s throat, not deep enough to kill him but enough for Steve to start screaming in disbelief at the blood staining Bucky’s hands; at Tony’s desperate, horrible choking gasp; and at Steve’s gnawing realization that he had absolutely no control over this situation whatsoever.

* * *

 

Bucky was gone when Steve woke again.

Tony was curled in on himself as much as he was able. Everywhere Steve looked screamed pain, from the lines deeply etched into Tony’s forehead to the harsh bags under his eyes to the blood pooling underneath him on the cold, hard floor even to the way Tony was slumped over, restrained in such a way that he couldn’t properly lie down or sit up.

Steve didn’t think he’d ever been more sick with worry in his  _life._

“Tony? Tony…,” he cried softly, torn between wanting to wake him up and knowing he needed to rest, to have peace and ignorance for just a few minutes more. In the end, Steve’s heart was just too big to raise his voice. He focused what little remained of his time and energy to think of a way out of his restraints, to wrack his brain for what he could possibly say to Bucky to make him snap out of this.

Terror formed a hard ball in the pit of his stomach as Bucky reentered whatever dark hole they were in. Steve tried to press closer, wanted to force Bucky to focus on him and not on Tony for however many seconds he could.

Bucky, unfortunately, paid him little mind. He stalked around a still unconscious Tony as if admiring his handiwork.

Steve remembered just last night, when Bucky was beating them all at Monopoly and Steve was laughing entirely too hard at Tony accusing Bucky of cheating. He remembered Bucky telling him to be careful just that morning, Tony telling Bucky he’d look after ‘the old man,’ Bucky there just like every other morning lately, sparring with Steve or chatting with Tony or…

Tony gasped awake, the abrupt sound sending a bone-deep shiver throughout Steve’s entire body. His head was held cruelly in Bucky’s hands again.

_This isn’t happening this isn’t happening this isn’t happening…_

“It is happening. I’ve been waiting for this moment for too long to turn back now.”

_Then why don’t you just kill him? Why are you taunting us like this?_ Steve wanted to ask; he didn’t  _dare._ He didn’t dare put a stop to Bucky’s fun as long as Tony was still alive, no matter how much agony he had to go through before he reached that point. 

Steve just had to keep that going, for  _Tony._

“Tony’s a good person, Buck. Everything you’ve been saying about him, everything that you believe is a  _lie._ It’s what Hydra  _wants_ you to believe but it’s not the truth. You  _know_ Tony, Bucky. Think about everything he’s done for you. Think about the updates he made to your arm and all the therapy bills he’s been paying.”

“Exactly,” Bucky retorted, “throwing his money at the world like it makes any goddamn difference. Like we’ll all somehow look past the person he is, the person he’s  _always_ been.”

“Bucky…,” Steve continued trying, he’d  _never_ stop trying. “I thought the same things about him before I even met him. I believed the media, believed everyone else’s initial perceptions of him. And then he gave his life for the world _,_ to protect  _us_ without ever expecting to come out of it. And I’ve hurt him, Bucky, I’ve hurt him so many times when he was supposed to be my friend, when I knew he was better than everyone else said, trying to be better and I just didn’t care. I just couldn’t care about anything else but you and he  _forgave_ me for it. He took you in when he didn’t have to. He fell in love with me when he should have hated me. He’s such a good person, Bucky,” he whispered, almost out of breath. “Every day of the last month has shown you that, I  _know_ it has.”

“God he’s sucked you in.”

“No!” Steve screamed as Bucky grasped Tony’s arm and pulled it in a direction it was never meant to go in. Tony’s hoarse scream sucked all the breath out of Steve’s lungs and his body started trembling harder, probably from the cold but mostly from the adrenaline fading and the heavy weight of hopelessness crushing his lungs.

“Bucky, _stop_ ….”

His body, his  _resolve,_ like Tony’s, was giving up too.

* * *

 

Bucky didn’t know why he kept hanging on like this, making Tony bleed when he should have killed him hours ago, but something inside was holding him back, something that Steve’s words had caused to surface.

He was in pain too, at everything Hydra had inflicted upon him, at Steve’s unwavering sense of loyalty to Stark and crippling blindness to his character, to how much he had wrecked both of their lives. He was in pain when the doubt started to creep in as he stared down at Stark, pain that turned to agony when he realized Steve was never going to relinquish his hold on him.

Bucky knelt down again, examining the stripe running across Stark’s throat, the numerous gashes in his side and chest and the way his bones stuck out in odd angles in his arm.

Stark’s face pinched with pain; breaths coming out in small, painful, choking gasps; blood matting his short, dark hair was the  _trigger_ . 

Memories assaulted him, or rather, tried to turn him away from his course. He couldn’t even be sure that they  _were_ memories rather than just sick dreams his head had conjured up to stray him from the truth. 

And Bucky tried to breathe through the crippling visions, leeched of all color and of all life but still  _there_ , taunting him, trying to sway him from the path he  _knew_ he was meant to be on, to protect Steve, to  _show_ Steve that Tony was the  _enemy._ To prove that the world didn’t need a man like Tony. 

That he was supposed to kill Tony that night all those years ago and that now his hands would finally get the chance again.

And still the images came, one after the other, hammering into his brain, slicing into him until he was down on his knees, until he could nearly feel Steve’s desperation and his fear and his love, smoky and bitter and sweet all at once on his tongue.

_Tony motioning him to sit down, completely unfazed that Bucky was in his workshop. Bucky, bewildered at everything he laid eyes on, everything that Tony had_ built  _and was working on and had taken time away from for_ him. 

_Tony’s warm hands on his arm, not the flesh one, tinkering with it and asking Bucky how it felt repeatedly and being so patient with him, like he had nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing._

_Bucky cooking Tony breakfast and Tony teasing him about burning the eggs and Bucky complaining about twenty-first century stoves and Tony just laughing._

_Bucky teasing Steve about courting Tony and watching Steve blush._

_Bucky watching Steve being happy with Tony._

_Bucky watching Tony being happy with Steve._

_Bucky’s heart being filled with so much warmth at his two best friends being happy and in love and bringing Bucky into their fold, into their hearts like a family._

_Bucky watching Tony work and Tony dance and Tony flirt and Tony laugh and Tony cry._

The Winter Soldier clenched his teeth, shoved the images aside as if they were nothing and reached for Tony’s arm, twisting it carelessly. The agonized cry brought him fully back to his senses, cleared his head and reminded him of his purpose here.

“Bucky,  _stop.”_

That one word, the only word he’d been hearing for hours now. He wanted to take that word and crush it. He wasn’t going to stop. He was going to make Tony Stark suffer for everything he had done to Steve, for every mind game he had played on him and on everyone else.

And then he was going to kill him.

* * *

 

Steve didn’t know how long he had been in that dark, dank place; had long he had been without light; how long he had screamed and begged and tried to convince Bucky to no avail. It was probably only hours but it felt like  _weeks._

And the only words Tony had said to him were:  _It’s okay, Steve._

Tony shifted, eyes flickering open to land on Steve for a handful of seconds before shuttering again. Steve’s sense of resolve was almost entirely shot. “Tony? Tony! Tony, please. Please don’t close your eyes. Please just… just stay with me,” Steve whispered the last bit brokenly. His voice was hoarse from all the shouting and pleading and his wide-ranging emotions were causing his usually more than sufficient reserves to drain rapidly.

Steve was more than a little worried about Tony’s concussion, not able to feel or see how bad it was, but he also didn’t want Tony to pass out plagued with hopelessness and a sense of betrayal,  _familiar_ betrayal specifically because Steve had failed Tony again when it came to Bucky, had put Bucky first and why? It hadn’t been life or death anymore, it had only been a matter of a few weeks more in treatment. 

And Steve had selfishly let Bucky out.

And Bucky had trusted Steve and probably not his own instincts and foolishly left.

And now Tony was lying there, broken and bleeding, just out of Steve’s reach, dead to Steve’s words and oblivious to the apologies Steve desperately needed to make, as little as they mattered now.

He needed Tony to know that he was going to get him out of this, that he was going to get Bucky  _fixed_ once and for all. 

He needed Tony to know that he’d  _never_ put him last again. 

Steve had been mentally preparing himself to do whatever was necessary as soon as he got free, even if that meant killing Bucky. He was almost at that stage now, could have convinced himself of it the second Bucky’s knife found Tony’s damaged flesh again.

He started screaming again, despite what little of his voice was left, though the shrill sound was mostly muted to his ears. Whatever hope he had left was past running on empty. Time was up.

Tony wasn’t even conscious anymore, couldn’t fight back, didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know that he would never open his eyes again. Steve was ramming his hands and feet what little he could move them against the metal bar until they were drenched in blood and it still wasn’t enough to set him free, screaming with as much effort as he could muster, begging for Bucky to stop, pleading with Tony to open his eyes just so Steve could see them  _alive_ one last time, full of light and love and maybe even forgiveness. 

“It’s okay, Steve,” Bucky reassured, though it was almost in an absentminded way given he was focused solely on Tony now. Steve didn’t want to see the look of glee on his face, didn’t want to be reminded anymore that this wasn’t Bucky, this was just Hydra  _still_ using him as a weapon, and Steve knew that this was why Tony already had forgiven Steve and maybe even Bucky long before this point: once, Tony had been a weapon too. “It’s almost over,” Bucky finished and if he wasn’t Steve best friend through time and heartache and loss, Steve would have dreamed of crushing his face in his own bare hands, tearing off his metal arm and shoving it down his throat, showing Bucky into some deep dark hole where he could forever regret taking Tony away from him. 

But he loved Bucky and this  _wasn’t_ his Bucky. 

Bucky barely managed to grasp whatever weapon - out of Steve’s eye-line - he planned on killing Tony with before a shot rang out and a bullet hit him in what looked to be the shoulder. Bucky ducked and rolled out of cover, away from Steve’s desperately searching gaze, and Steve started screaming at the silhouette of familiar red hair.

“Help Tony! He’s hurt, I don’t even know how badly he’s hurt but  _please_ .” He started searching for Bucky again now that he knew Tony was in good hands. “And don’t kill….”

Another shot rang out and Steve strained against his bonds harder. He needn’t have bothered, for a body dropped down beside him in another moment and Steve stared down at his best friend.

He glanced up at the gun but before the rage could completely fill up his chest, Colonel James Rhodes stepped out of the shadows. “It was a tranquilizer.”

“We don’t kill our friends,” Natasha finished.

Steve didn’t think he could love them any more than he did in that moment.

Rhodey knelt down beside a still unconscious Tony, grasping his face gently with two hands. “Tony? Tony.” Steve was so touched by how gentle Rhodey was being with Tony, from tenderly holding his head when he was being lifted onto a stretcher to his barking out precise orders when it came to his being moved, treated, etc.

Natasha was the one who knelt down beside Steve, cutting him out of his restraints quickly though carefully, face going pale at the sight of his wrists and thus, hovering near him as he adjusted until she was sure he wouldn’t slump over or pass out. Steve watched her as she cast a quick glance at Bucky before swallowing and turning away, barely masking her sorrow with her wet, pinched eyes and tight mouth. Steve’s heart broke at the sight. Natasha was closer to Tony than most, having known him for longer than any of the team had, save for Rhodey, having had longer to figure him out and take apart the masks he wore to hide from the world, the pain he kept buried so deep and astonishingly never let out anymore even when Bucky was around, burying it even deeper.

“It wasn’t your fault, Steve,” she started before Steve could even get a word out. He shot her an angry look but Natasha wasn’t one to be deterred. “Bucky knew the risks just as much as you did. Better than you did considering it was his own mind, his own hands that could deal the damage.”

Steve sighed loudly, nearly tempted to slump against Natasha in defeat. He  _did_ want sympathy from her, he just didn’t deserve it. Not when Tony was fighting for his life just outside the door, barely ten feet away. “Do we have to talk about this now? I just want to focus on Tony.”

Natasha nodded, hand squeezing Steve’s for a moment before standing. She held out the same hand for him and Steve gratefully took it, despite feeling like his hands would be lopped off from his wrists at any moment. “Let’s go then. If we hurry we can take the chopper right behind theirs.”

They walked out of the darkness, side by side, nearly hand in hand, and Steve thought about all the times he’d counted on Natasha, all the times they’d had each other’s backs, comforted the other, been through hell and still kept going, always side by side.

And all Steve wanted to do was fall behind, crawl up in some dark corner and cry until there was nothing left in him but a stinging numbness and a weightless heart, unburdened by pain and guilt and self-hatred.

Instead, he trusted Natasha to guide him.

* * *

 

There was a continuous vibration in Steve’s pocket as he sat slumped over in the waiting room chair, head in his bandaged hands and feeling like it was six feet deep and swimming in murky water. All he had were memories of fighting Tony, Bucky fighting Tony, the both of them fighting Tony and Steve telling himself repeatedly that this, all of it was justified just so long as he didn’t kill Tony.

Tony would make it back from this, Tony would forgive him and just maybe Steve could keep the both of them alive.

Instead, he had lost Tony as a friend and ever since then, had had a bitter taste in his mouth about it. He had come back, wanting to do so much more than apologize, wanting to tell Tony how much he loved him, needed him, and just when things were going slow and steady but beautiful between them, Bucky had taken his hopeful prognosis for granted and Steve had encouraged him and he checked himself out and promptly lost it.

And how many mistakes would Steve have to make before Tony just faded away from him?

The vibration continued and Steve felt a hand rummage around in his pocket. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to surface. He didn’t want to wallow anymore in the uncertainty of not knowing whether Tony was still fighting.

Tony was always fighting. Steve was always putting him in that position. Steve and Bucky both.

God, what had Tony done to deserve the two of them crashing into his life and tearing it apart?

A slender, delicate hand was shoving a phone in his face, cold metal pressing against his cheek. “Answer it, Steve.”

He blinked, eyes boring into Natasha’s sympathetic though determined ones. Her eyes were still wet and Steve hadn’t seen her this upset since Fury was fighting for his life on an operating table. The last time he had seen her she was almost pressed face first up against the glass, watching Tony being operated on this time, just as intently watching Rhodey keep an eye on the surgeons just to make sure. Just to make sure Tony had someone there with him.

And then Steve had gratefully drifted out of the situation, out of the  _waiting_ and into his head, which wasn’t that much of a better place to be really. 

He pressed a button by memory without even looking at the caller ID and said: “Hello.”

“Steve.”

God, he missed that voice. God, how much he wanted to throw his phone across the room. “I can’t do this right now, Buck…”

“Just hold on a sec, Stevie,” Bucky cut in, voice soaked in desperation. The nickname was forced and hard to hear. Steve didn’t want a reminder that Bucky was alive right now, he didn’t want Bucky on the other end of the line, pleading with him to listen.

In any other situation he would want Bucky here, would want Bucky’s arms to wrap around him and comfort him, would want Bucky to be that reminder of the past, of a home and of their city and of their fighting side by side for a cause they never once doubted. But Bucky had caused this, had put Tony under the knife, and Steve had let it all happen. He had betrayed Bucky too, in a way.

“I can’t,” his voice cracked and his entire body shook. Natasha had disappeared again. He was truly alone except for this other voice he both adored and hated. “ _Don’t_ ask me to forgive you,” he seethed, insides squeezing, fists clenching. He just didn’t feel in control anymore. “Not right now. I will, Bucky, because I know it wasn’t really you, but don’t put that on me.”

“I’m not, Steve. Just let me be here while I can’t be there. Just wanna let you know that I’m here, whatever you need me for, even if it’s just to talk on the phone like this.”

Bucky’s voice was so small and sounded so sorry and Steve knew he was. He also knew it wasn’t about Bucky being sorry. In the last month, Bucky had bonded with Tony on an unbelievable level. Steve would have staked his life on Tony’s absolute trust in Bucky. Through tinkering with Bucky’s arm and Bucky always finding excuses to hang around and help out, to Bucky encouraging Steve to spend more time with Tony even when it meant less time for the both of them and Bucky teasing Tony about anything and everything, the two had become fast friends.

It proved that Tony could just about forgive anything, but Steve didn’t feel like he could ever ask Tony to forgive all  _this._

“And  _please_ keep me up to date on Tony. I know I barely deserve that, but I won’t be able to sleep, hell even  _start_ to get better if I don’t know whether he’s okay. And I  _will_ get better, Steve. I’ll stay here for years if I have…”

“Bucky,” he almost screamed, hand clenching around the phone. This isn’t about  _you_ , he wanted to say, but the silence on the other end led him to believe Bucky already knew that. “I have to go,” Steve forced himself to say. 

He heard the disappointment before he even got a response. “Okay. I’m sorry, Steve. As little as that may mean right now. Just… keep me up to date on Tony, okay?”

Steve hung up and finally hurled his phone at the wall, watching it shatter and fall and crumple, lying there with no life left in it.

* * *

 

Tony’s eyes opened fourteen hours later and Steve wasn’t  _there._

Rhodey felt a shift in the room immediately and was up on his feet before his brain could catch up, hovering over Tony’s bed to see his best friend’s eyes blink open slowly. “Hey, Tony. It’s Rhodey. You feeling okay?” He could tell the moment Tony’s eyes cleared and overwhelming drowsiness was replaced with fragile clarity. He didn’t really want to put anything on Tony at this stage, but he felt he needed to understand what state Tony’s head was in on top of everything else. “You remember anything, Tony?”

“Unfortunately,” Tony rasped, though his eyes still roamed wildly about the room as if he didn’t really remember or know where he was.

Rhodey’s heart clenched at the sight. Tony’s healing was dependent on him staying still and stress-free. It was the reason Rhodey wanted to be here and couldn’t allow  _Steve_ to be, no matter how much Tony loved him and vice versa. “Easy, Tony. You’re in a hospital. Steve and Natasha are just outside. Bucky’s far  _far_ away from here and he’s going to stay that way.”

“Is he okay?”

Rhodey’s mouth immediately went dry. “Is he…,” his voice cracked and he broke off, bewildered at the expectant expression on Tony’s face. “Is he okay? What, are you talking about Bucky or Steve? Because Steve’s okay, he’s just really shaken up and probably blaming himself more than anyone else ever could.” He cringed and paused, waiting for Tony to say something else, fall back asleep, do  _something_ , but instead he just continued to stare at Rhodey in anticipation. Rhodey wrung his hands in distress and anger. “You don’t need to worry about how Bucky is right now. He’s alive. He’s  _fine_ , Tony.  _You_ need to worry about  _yourself._ ”

Tony sighed deeply and nodded, eyes closing and causing all of Rhodey’s anger to leech right out of him. Of course Tony wanted to know how Bucky was, even when the latter had tortured the former for innumerable hours.  _Of course_ Tony thought about Bucky’s well-being before he thought of his own. They were friends now,  _family_ really, but Rhodey just wasn’t feeling really familial right about now. 

Natasha stepped in, quietly but not quiet enough to startle Tony, whose heavily lidded eyes reopened and glanced up at her in almost sisterly affection. In any other occasion this would have been a dangerous move, but despite Natasha’s wary gaze, Rhodey knew her well enough to see not only relief but also affection mirrored there.

“Hey there, pretty lady.”

“Hey there yourself,” Natasha greeted. She waited until Tony’s eyes were closed again before turning toward Rhodey. “I never thought I’d be so happy to have Tony treating me like some swimsuit model.”

“Especially with blood in your hair,” Rhodey teased.

Natasha’s smile was worth all the stress of the last few hours.

* * *

 

Unlike Rhodey and Natasha, Steve hadn’t had the privilege of seeing Tony awake or talking before he had gone into cardiac arrest and was forced back into surgery. The second recovery period was longer and far more terrifying and uncertain than the first. Weeks went by, not days but  _weeks_ before Tony really recovered enough to stay awake for more than a few minutes and be able to breathe and eat on his own.

Two days into it and Natasha finally shoved him out the door, telling him to go home and take a shower.

But Steve didn’t have anywhere to go.

He wandered the streets for a while, still somewhat trapped in that dark space with a raging, psychotic best friend and copiously bleeding boyfriend, the latter a direct result of the former, both faults entirely his own. He ended up so severely lost that he had to call Clint to pick him up.

Steve watched Clint’s hands clench around the steering wheel, realized that he had been aimlessly driving around for the past fifteen minutes until Steve had come back to himself  _again._ He just couldn’t stay out of his head, didn’t feel like he could be back in his own body until he was sure Tony would survive. 

He hadn’t even thought about Bucky past what had happened in that room, hadn’t even asked where he’d been taken to.  _Oh god._

“Anyplace in particular you wanna go?” Clint finally asked when he was fairly sure Steve was coherent again. Steve wasn’t entirely sure himself.

He glanced down at his hands, didn’t look too closely and especially didn’t look underneath his fingernails. He didn’t want to see the flecks of blood there. The bandages on his wrists had come off today but honestly, Steve hadn’t felt much of the pain after he had been rescued, not with Tony hanging on by a thread Steve was certain was fraying more and more each moment.

Clint whipped the steering wheel to the left unexpectedly, whizzing past the mid-afternoon traffic. “You can hang with me for a while then.”

Of course Steve  _had_ places to go, it’s just that he wasn’t sure he could step foot in them without losing it. How could he go to Tony’s place without Tony there and without knowing whether he’d ever be there again? He had sold his own spacious apartment two weeks ago and suddenly wished he hadn’t, even though he didn’t really want to go somewhere where Tony wasn’t part of anyway. 

And then there was Bucky’s apartment which, other than a mandatory night or two at the treatment center, Bucky only tended to spend one-third of the time at and the other two-thirds at Tony’s and recently Tony’s  _and_ Steve’s. He knew Bucky wouldn’t be there, not if the team had anything to say about it, but he didn’t want to be around anything Bucky related right now, not when those long, _excruciating_ hours were still so raw in his head, peeling away layers of him like he was still  _there._

“I really appreciate it, Clint,” he tried, even though it sounded half-assed at best. Clint shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Sure, he had sided with him plenty of times when it counted, but how could anyone forgive Steve for his utter carelessness and its disastrous effects.

“I shouldn’t say anything,” Clint relented, sensing that Steve seemed to need something to hold onto. “But the facility Bucky’s being held at is two blocks away.” Steve’s fists clenched and his heart twisted and spluttered in his chest and the flashes came back: the slow slice across Tony’s throat; Tony’s unfocused, agonized eyes boring into his like he knew it was over; Bucky’s ‘that’s the problem.’

The sharp stabbing pain in his wrists and the tears streaming down his face and his own voice ragged and cracked and shattered from screaming.

The guilt, dragging him so far down into the darkness that he had no hope of ever hauling himself back out.

Clint waited, patiently, and then made another sharp curve and jolted Steve violently out of his reverie. “Do you think it would help, seeing him? They say he’s better. A  _lot_ better.”

_I don’t care_ , Steve wanted to say but he  _couldn’t._ It wasn’t true. There were some days, so  _many_ days where his concern for Bucky mattered more than the breath in his own body, than any and every sacrifice he would have to make.  _And it’s not Bucky’s fault, it’s what Hydra made him. He was down so deep for so long that…_

_That what? That everything he does is just proof of Hydra’s guilt? That he played no part in any of it? It was Bucky’s hands, Bucky’s will, Bucky’s voice._

_No._ Not  _Bucky._

_I let him into Tony’s life, into_ our _lives and he nearly killed him. How could we have known, how could I have known, how could anyone have known?_

_I_ should have  _known._

“Hey, Cap? You about done being in your head for a while?” Steve didn’t listen, didn’t want to give him an answer, was afraid of saying yes or no either way. “Look, I know what it’s like, alright? The first time you met me I wasn’t really me, remember?” Steve tried to remember but it  _hurt_ , to think of anything  _before_ this. “I still blamed myself, blamed Loki more but not even he could take away what I felt was my own weakness. Natasha was the one who set me right again. She pulled my head out of my ass and put me right back in the real world. It takes time, Steve, but we’re all still here  _because_ we’re built to last.”

Steve could barely hold back the floodgates anymore. “If Tony dies…”

Clint jerked the car into a random parking spot and shifted it into park. He turned to face Steve, voice higher and angrier. “He  _won’t_ die, Steve. Do you think any of us will willingly let him die? Natasha will kick his ass if he even breathes wrong once he’s taken off the ventilator. She almost did when he flat lined the third time.”

“It was my fault.” He hadn’t told anyone that yet, only himself. “It was my fault for seeing Bucky how  _I_ wanted him to be and not how he really was. He had bad days more often than not but Tony and I just didn’t care. We just rolled with it because we thought Bucky was strong enough not to break.”

Clint sighed and rested his forehead on the steering wheel for a moment. “You couldn’t have known, Steve. It was an anomaly. A tragic  _fucking_ anomaly.”

“How could he have slipped so far back so fast?”

“Fury says something must have triggered it.” Steve pressed his knuckles to his forehead at that; he  _really_ didn’t want to think about this right now. “I know, man,” Clint sympathized. “One step at a time.”

“Can we just…?”

Clint turned the key and took it out of the ignition. “We’re here anyway.”

“Good,” Steve admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in exhaustion. “I need to take a shower and change my clothes.”

“No, jackass. Apartment later. Letting your best friend know you’re there for him  _first_ .”

Steve could have been angry,  _should_ have been angry at having the choice taken away from him, but even if he lashed out at Clint it would be another mistake to regret later. 

Even if Steve ran, he doubted he’d make it one block before Clint tackled him to the ground.

* * *

 

Bucky practically threw himself at Steve when he walked through the door. Steve didn’t realize how difficult it would be for him to maintain eye-contact, to want to tell Bucky that he forgave him even though he wouldn’t mean it, not yet anyway.

He let Bucky wrap arms around him but didn’t do the same. His arms felt like leaden weights, hanging by his sides uselessly. He didn’t care how it made Bucky feel, couldn’t care about anyone other than Tony. He couldn’t even care about himself right now.

Bucky didn’t mind, talked enough for the both of them when he mercifully let Steve go. “I remember it, Steve. Most of it anyway. God, I can still feel my hands…,” Bucky shuddered and tucked himself into a small ball on the bed. Steve reached out for him, hating to see Bucky hide himself away from the world in distress and hating that he even cared about that at all right now, but Bucky perked up, sitting up even though Steve didn’t touch him.

Rather than flesh everything out and fill in the gaps that were no doubt in Bucky’s head, rather than listening to him apologize over and over again until the words meant nothing, Steve thought about what Clint had said. “I need you to go through everything you did that day before you took me and Tony.” Bucky shot him a wary glance, an almost pleading one. “ _Something_ happened that day,” Steve clarified. “We can’t have a repeat of this. God, Bucky, Tony’s….”

“I know, Stevie. Clint’s been keeping me up to date. You have no idea how badly I want to be there for him right now. I know I can’t. I know there’s a chance Tony will never trust me again. Hell, maybe never want to be in the same room as me again.”

Steve didn’t know why but he couldn’t  _cope_ with the words coming out of Bucky’s mouth right now. Tony may have nothing to do with either one of them again. “ _I_ may never trust you again, Bucky. Did you ever stop to think of that, or can you just  _not_ think about yourself for five minutes?”

“Steve….”

He finally  _snapped._ “I begged you, I  _pleaded_ with you to stop, over and over again until I didn’t think there were any words left in my vocabulary, Bucky! I can’t even  _imagine_ what was going through Tony’s head all that time. If Natasha and Rhodey had come  _any_ later Tony would be  _dead. You_ would have killed him. And whose fault would that have been? Who would have been left behind to take the heat if you’d never recovered?  _Me._ ”

“Steve,” Bucky trembled and Steve wasn’t sure whether he was angry or relieved not to find Bucky crying. “I’m sorry. I  _love_ Tony.”

“You told me everything was fine. You told me you had passed all your exams with flying colors. I believed you. I let you stop going to the sessions. I ignored your off days. I did everything I could to convince myself you were better and I’m sorry, Bucky, I’m sorry I didn’t fight you on that. That was my  _job_ , to make sure you were getting better.  _I’m_ the one who let you down.”

“No,” a voice interjected from the hallway. Clint stood there, watching the two of them with a mostly exasperated yet also still cautious expression. “You let each other down. Now accept that and move on because the sooner you two accept your own share of the blame, the sooner you realize that Tony  _also_ let Bucky in, without any encouragement from either of you.” Bucky opened his mouth at that but a sharp glare from Clint made him close it again. “Tony’s gonna need the  _both_ of you when he wakes up, not one making excuses for the other, not the two of you hiding with your heads up your asses because you think your guilt will be worth more to Tony than the two of you actually physically  _being there.”_

“I can’t risk it,” Bucky tried. “I can’t put that on him.”

“You ain’t putting anything on him by simply  _being_ there. If he tells you to get out then you get out, if he tells you never to come back then you don’t for a good long while. You don’t push him but you don’t  _ignore_ him either. If the two of you care about him, you’ll give him the choice.”

Steve nodded at Clint gratefully. “He knows it wasn’t you, Buck.  _Tony._ ” Bucky’s head shot up. “The whole time we were in there he kept…,” Steve broke off and swallowed heavily. He hadn’t wanted to dwell on this part. “He kept trying to tell me it was fine, even without words, like he knew it wasn’t you. He knew you were going to kill him and maybe that’s how he knew. He was stronger than I was in there. At first I thought it really was you.”

Bucky looked at Steve in amazement. The confused rage on his face that followed soon after convinced Steve that he was wracking his brain and he held out his arms for Bucky to step into, let Bucky rest his head on his shoulder, held him so tightly he didn’t care if he gave Bucky bruises or cracked any of his bones. “I remember most of it,” Bucky admitted, his voice fragile, like he was so sure Steve was gonna kick his ass and on top of that that Tony would never talk to him again. “I don’t want to but I do. But I  _need_ to, Steve. I need to know what I did to him so I can fix him.”

Steve shook his head sadly. “It’s not a matter of a few enhancements, Buck. Unfortunately, we may have to build this up from the ground again.”

The devastated look on his best friend’s face and leaking out of his every pore told Steve all he needed to know: Bucky didn’t want to face the possibility of losing Tony’s friendship.

Bucky didn’t want to lose Tony  _period_ .

* * *

 

So yes, weeks went by, not days but  _weeks_ before Tony really recovered enough to stay awake for more than a few minutes and be able to breathe and eat on his own. Several days after Steve reuniting with Bucky, Tony was doing a whole lot better. Infection was still an issue, which made Rhodey a little crankier than usual and Bucky a little more withdrawn than normal, and it was another week and a half before Tony was taken off the ventilator and allowed to sit up in bed and eat an actual somewhat meal, but progress was being made everyday and that was the first thing Steve would tell himself - like a mantra - when he woke every new day. 

Steve divided his time between Tony and Bucky. He knew that his faith in Bucky was a huge part of what was helping him press on day-to-day, but he also knew how much Tony needed his support too, even while sleeping.

There was also the fact that Bucky wanted updates and that Clint, often agreeing to take assignments from Fury when the others wouldn’t, didn’t always have up-to-date intel on Tony’s condition. Neither did Natasha, whose vulnerability in her concern for Tony often kept her away from the hospital and buried deep in some assignment somewhere, usually on her own and sometimes with Clint, but never too deep or too far to not resurface when Steve called with updates.

They were all just moving on with their lives except Steve. He was stuck. Stepped in quicksand and couldn’t get out, drowning in the darkness of that torture chamber and not being able to recall what light felt like and looked like. He would resurface at critical moments for Bucky or Tony, but other than that he was lost in his own head most of the time. A word from Tony, as few as they were, could plaster a smile on his face for hours, but Steve couldn’t help but feel that he’d lost something that he’d never get back.

Still, he made sure that Tony knew he was loved in those few moments he was awake throughout each day. He’d kiss him softly or stoke a thumb down his cheek or whisper happy memories in his ear, tucking Tony in and habitually ‘checking for fever like a nagging old woman,’ Tony would tease and Steve would laugh and take Tony’s lax hand and rest his head atop it, knowing more than anything that he didn’t deserve Tony’s smile or his trust or his forgiveness.

And Tony would ask about Bucky too. And  _god_ Steve didn’t want to answer. He got through each day keeping Tony and Bucky completely separate, for the most part, and Bucky nagging him about Tony was just as bad as Tony nagging him about Bucky. 

“Why?” He asked one day, stupid question that it was. Maybe it was because he was frustrated that Tony was  _still_ only picking at his food, or that he refused to take a nap until Steve gave him an answer. 

Tony shot him one of those annoyed glances and Steve’s heart felt like it might cave in. “Because I worry about him. Just because the people you care about hurt you doesn’t mean you worry about them any less.”

Steve just kissed his hand, told Tony he loved him and watched him settle back into a well-deserved nap.

* * *

 

Tony’s pestering Steve about how Bucky was soon led him to pestering Steve about something far more dangerous.

“I want to see him,” Tony pressed. “You can’t keep him locked up forever, Steve. And you can’t keep me locked up in here forever either.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tony,” Rhodey cut in, closing the door behind him to emphasize that Tony  _wasn’t_ leaving anytime soon. “You’re nowhere near healthy enough to leave and when you are, it’s still bed rest for you even if I have to get Steve here to tie you to your bed.”

Steve cringed at the thought but still couldn’t help but smile at the adorable pout on Tony’s face. He sat down on the bed beside him. “If you  _really_ want me to bring Bucky here, I will.”

Tony lit up at that.

And Rhodey darkened. “Are you sure about this, Steve?”

“The doctors say Bucky’s hard work and patience has paid off these last few weeks.  _I’m_ not making the final decision this time, but if they give me a good report then I think it’s up to Tony,” Steve admitted, thinking back on what Clint had said. 

“Tony, man,” Rhodey pressed. “I’m still gonna be here as backup, no matter what.”

Tony smiled and sunk back into the pillows, appearing genuinely appreciative. “I know, Rhodey. You always are.”

* * *

 

Tony usually always got his way, though it helped that Steve didn’t fight him on this one. Maybe he should have but he was just so  _tired_ of fighting. 

“Tony?” Bucky asked, looking like nothing more than a lost puppy who desperately wanted to be loved again. Steve tensed despite already knowing that Bucky was going to be here, at this exact moment, and that he was deemed as close to one-hundred percent as he was ever probably going to get.

Still, Steve reminded himself that most of the team was just outside: Natasha, Rhodey, Bruce, Clint and even Fury, waiting to make a move if need be.

Steve watched Bucky as intensely as he could manage, though he didn’t miss how small and fragile Tony looked in that too-small hospital bed, nor how Tony tried to sit up straighter and winced in pain at the small movement before giving up. Steve honed in on how careful and slow Bucky was, how sorrowful and guilty he looked and how badly he wanted to express that to Tony.

Steve still sat up just a little straighter. “Easy, Bucky.” He could still feel his own hands on Bucky’s quivering shoulders as he comforted him, no longer having the heart to shut his best friend out. He had never seen Bucky so stressed, so guilty, avoiding Steve’s eyes until finally meeting them, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he fought back tears that Steve eventually shed for the both of them.

Bucky finally stopped two feet away from Tony’s bed. He looked tense enough that he would split in two at any moment, skittish enough that he would turn around and bolt if Tony made one wrong move or gesture. Finally words came out, simple though powerful enough. “How are you feeling, Tones?”

Bucky, always with the nicknames. Steve knew Tony had taken a grudging liking to doll and hon and even princess and that one time  _sweetcakes_ . And Tony would get away with Bucks and Buckaroo but never with sparklebear. A laugh almost shot up out of Steve’s throat and he just barely held it back. He realized now how desperately he wanted Bucky and Tony to be friends again, to not have them go back to tiptoeing around each other. It was easier when Steve came home and the two were cooking together or watching a movie or just hanging out in Tony’s workshop. It was easier seeing the both of them relaxed and content and  _happy_ . 

Steve’s two favorite people in the world.

And Steve had never had the thought of just how miraculous it was that Bucky was always there. He had just become so accustomed to it that he’d never even thought to thank the both of them or read more into the situation, to see that Tony liked Bucky and Bucky liked Tony too.

Now, Tony lying weak beneath Bucky once more, unlike the last time holding out his arms willingly, just slightly enough for Bucky to get the hint to slip into them. His arms wrapped around Tony inch by painstaking inch, so slowly that Steve watched every second, saw every movement and caught each sigh. Tony looked like he was in distress but not more than he’d been in before. Steve still came several steps closer, needing Tony to know that he was right  _there._

“Tell me if it’s too much?”

Tony shook his head at Bucky’s question. It was minute enough to miss but Steve didn’t and he suspected Bucky didn’t either. Tears filled Steve’s eyes and he moved even closer, body pulling him instinctively where it wanted him to go. Countless times he had been forced to choose between the two of them. It was clear now that none of them wanted that.

Bucky finally let go but he didn’t move away. He stayed close as Tony settled back. “Move back in with us?”

Steve’s heart started racing and he was also sure that Bucky’s was too. There was a long beat, a silence that almost grated, until Bucky recovered enough to shrug. “If that’s what you want, doll. Doc says I’m cleared to move out. Still have to follow a strict regimen with visits three times a week, but other than that I’m up for living anywhere.”

Steve cut in, addressing Tony. “They also said that it would be better if Bucky didn’t live on his own. If he had a support system and close friends to look after him. They said it’s his best chance.” He immediately regretted the words. It was his fault that he had allowed Bucky out and he had  _zero_ right to try to convince Tony again, to make assurances that he knew he wasn’t in control of keeping. He immediately backpedaled. “But maybe it is too soon, maybe…”

“I’ll have FRIDAY put security measures in place, just in case. It won’t happen like last time,  _if…”_

An overwhelming fatigue suddenly washed over Tony and he started to slump back. Steve shot to his aid but Bucky beat him, shoving pillows behind Tony and doing his best to prop him up with minimal physical contact. Tony didn’t seem to mind, or he was just too tired to mind. He glanced up at Steve and Bucky though, corner of his mouth pulling up in a dazed smile. Tony looked beautiful again to Steve, even with dark shadows under his eyes and bandages covering his throat and so many tubes sticking out of him Steve was afraid to touch him and dislodge even one. “What’d I ever do to deserve two hunky guys like you?”

Steve blushed and blinked in astonishment. Bucky smirked and crossed his arms, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re not too bad looking yourself, princess.”

Tony, the most content Steve had seen him in a while, slumped further back and closed his eyes.

Steve and Bucky made sure he was asleep - as far as they could tell - before talking or even moving again. “He seems better,” Bucky pointed out. His hand almost brushed Tony’s hair out of his face before thinking better of it. Steve agreed with the lack of physical contact, for now. Absolutely exhausted, he almost slumped back into his chair before realizing how close Tony and Bucky were, mere inches apart.

He opened his mouth, about to let Natasha or someone else into the room until Bucky shook his head. “Gimme a minute more? Just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Steve breathed out and smiled. He couldn’t believe how he had missed or at least misinterpreted the whole Tony and Bucky thing before. It was obvious to him now with how much Bucky had hung around, like Tony’s lavish house and lavish lifestyle was his home.

Like Tony was his home, just like he was Steve’s.

He strayed back to all that Tony had said, then his brain stuttered and brought up something he had missed entirely. He glanced over at Bucky, who now sat on Tony’s bed, smiling down at him and whispering something to him.

Steve took a breath. Bucky already  _knew._ “Did we just all agree to a relationship?”

Bucky shrugged again, like he knew all along that this would all work out and simply accepted his loss of control over the situation. “It’s called polyamory, Stevie. Welcome to the twenty-first century. I guess for both of us actually.”

Steve, still dazed, felt absolutely terrified at the idea but also was aware of his heart fluttering in what felt like anticipation in his chest.

* * *

 

So Bucky moved in,  _permanently_ this time. 

He gave Tony and Steve space, Tony most of all. Sometimes Tony would take it, heading down to his workshop and barring entry toward either of them, leaving the two of them behind while he went out and forbidding FRIDAY from telling them where he was, eating dinner alone in his room.

Most of the time he  _didn’t._

He would go down into his workshop but throw out there that Bucky could come down if he felt like it. He would put on a movie and make enough popcorn for the three of them, and then snuggle into Steve on the couch and allow Bucky to put Tony’s feet in his lap. He would offer to take a look at Bucky’s arm, ramble on about enhancements, and Steve would catch Bucky looking up at Tony with such gratitude and love and awe at everything Tony could just take and roll with.

Gradually, piece by piece and much faster than Steve had intended, they all started forgiving one another and fell into love just as easily as if they had been together before everything that had happened.

Gradually, piece by piece, they all started forgiving themselves too.

Unlike before they knew the risks, were uncomfortably and grudgingly intimate with the shared pain of their pasts and were aware it couldn’t be tampered down so completely. They also, however, knew that the times the rewards outweighed the risks was worth all the uncertainty in the world.

They were, finally, content and in love and knew  _peace._

**FIN**

 

**Author's Note:**

> I might make this into a series to explore the repercussions of what Bucky did to Tony and how Steve, Tony and Bucky adjust to living together/being in a relationship together but I don't know yet; I'd certainly like to.


End file.
